He Felt Hot

Hazel was all quiet in the car, not paying attention to what Coyle was saying. She kissed her teeth angrily; she was annoyed and felt like a fool right now.

“Hazel?” Coyle called, and she stared at him. He has been asking her questions, but she was all quiet.

“Did something happen to your parents?” He asked, and she shook her head and leaned back, closed her eyes, and feigned to be asleep.

What was going on in her life? She had no idea. Why was Coyle not mad at her? Why was he giving her the signals that he loved her instead?

“I am not the bride he wanted, so why all this?” Does she even deserve the chain and all the kindness he keeps showing her? Now Hazel had doubts about herself and life; maybe all this was a dream, and she wasn't married; she was probably in the Jones mansion, upstairs in her bedroom in deep sleep, having a perfect dream.

Soon, the car arrived at the Anderson mansion, and Coyle had to carry her upstairs as she had fallen asleep for real. He placed her on the soft bed before she slowly opened her eyes and muttered, “You saw her, right?”

Coyle raised a brow, confused. “Saw who?”

This caused Hazel to snort. Why was he pretending like he didn't notice Nady standing there? She used the duvet to cover her body and tried to sleep.

It was around 3am when Coyle felt his body get all warm; he had felt this way every night with Hazel next to him, but he seemed to be testing his self-control and forcing himself to sleep.

But today he couldn't; she was next to him and looked so hot, her fair neck and hands being exposed for his view.

Slowly, he wrapped his hand around her waist and placed a soft kiss on her neck. His hand found its way into her t-shirt and rubbed her belly.

“Hmm” Hazel turned slightly and opened her eyes to find Coyle close to her. He smashed his lips with hers, kissing her wildly like his life depended on it.

“Coyle…” Hazel called; this was the first time she had muttered the courage to call his name; she felt what she was about to say next needed more courage, and calling his name was normal.

“Can you please stop?” She asked, and he stared at her for a while, trying to ask why, but he didn't want to sound disrespectful, so he walked down the bed.

“You should go back to bed,” then he walked to the bathroom, and Hazel sat up anxiously.

She just didn't imagine herself going all the way with him, and his actions had taken her surprisingly. “Is he upset?” she thought when she heard the shower turn on.

“Come on, Hazel, he is your husband,” she kept reminding herself and waited for Coyle to step out of the bathroom so they could talk, but he didn't.

While waiting, she drifted off to sleep and only opened her eyes when she heard her phone ring.

Hazel’s hand searched the bedside table, trying to find her phone. When she finally caught hold of it, she checked the caller, and it was her best friend Tasha, so she connected the call.

“Hello Tasha”

“Let’s meet tonight, okay? I just returned to the country.”

“You did?” Hazel was surprised; didn't Tasha say she would only return to the country after giving birth?

“Yes, but I am busy right now. So let’s go clubbing tonight and we could talk.” 

What? Hazel sat up on the bed and checked the caller ID to confirm if it was her friend Tasha who was heavily pregnant. “You promised not to go clubbing till you give birth, remember?”

Tasha snorted loudly. “I will send you my address,” then she hung up.

“This girl,” Hazel sighed heavily before she checked the time, and it was 6 a.m. She walked to the bathroom and couldn't find Coyle.

"Coyle,” she hurried out of the bedroom and stood on the balcony but was enveloped by a silent view downstairs.

“Did he leave for work?” She thought. Hazel gripped her head. She had angered him, and that’s why he left early not to see her.

“Why did I have to do that?” Hazel blamed herself before she went into thinking that she wasn't going to have a good day thinking that her husband was angry with her.

So she tried his number, but the call was directed straight to voicemail.

Hazel got an idea; she hurriedly made breakfast for Coyle, got freshened up, and took a cab to Anderson’s group since the driver was still not there.

Hazel walked to the receptionist, who was busy applying her makeup. “Good morning,” she greeted, and the lady didn't pay attention to her, so Hazel assumed it’s because she didn't get her.

“Excuse me,” she called again before the receptionist's gaze moved to her.

“Go on and talk; no need to greet me,” the receptionists snorted, and Hazel did just as she said.

“Which floor number do I take to Coyle Anderson’s office?” She asked, and the receptionist stared at her in disbelief. She stood up and walked closer to the computer.

“What’s your name? Do you have an appointment with the president?”

Hazel shook her head in denial when the receptionist slammed her hand on the table angrily. “What’s the problem with you girls? Don't you have jobs rather than come crowd this place every day?”

“What do you mean?” Hazel asked, confused. Why was the lady scolding at her?

“Just leave before I call the security,” the receptionist scolded, and Hazel shook her head; she wasn't leaving without seeing Coyle.

She dialed his contact, which went through this time around; the call got connected, but there was no response.

"Hello,” Hazel kept saying, but no response came from the other end.

“Didn't you hear when I asked you to leave? Do you want me to do it on my own?” The lady scolded, and Hazel frowned.

“Can you calm down? I don't understand why you are being rude. I only came to see Coyle Anderson and will leave after that." Hazel frowned at the receptionist who walked towards her and pushed her; the bag Hazel was holding, which contained Coyle’s breakfast, was pushed to the ground.